The Fall
by SoullessElric
Summary: REWRITE of Found, Helpless / In one, he was a cat with a curse hanging over his head, in the other, a sickness was slowly taking over his body. He was weakening in both realities, and all he had to do was choose which one to live in. The price? Alphonse... or an entire world.
1. Chapter One

**_The Fall –_ Chapter One**

_Again with the late night inspirations. This is my rewrite of Found, Helpless, though the plot has been almost completely changed._

**Disclaimer: **Fullmetal Alchemist doesn't belong to me.

* * *

**( 1 )**

**-[ Tenacity ]-**

_We can do some wrecking here_

_'Til a little color comes into your face_

_We can do some wrecking here_

_And find something to love_

_In this broken place, this broken place_

* * *

That day had been miserable, Ed decided, as he crouched over his meager dinner of table scraps. He padded around the food carefully, inspecting it from every angle before leaning in to sniff it.

His feline tail twitched upwards as he smelled no poison or rot on the potential food. His stomach growled, voicing it's complaints about his recent meal schedule.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. That restaurant that had the tasty Xingese chicken started closing their dumpsters last week, I'm workin' with what I got here." He said.

Though he might have been concerned about being heard talking to his stomach when things were normal, he currently had no qualms about it now.

After all, even if anyone were to hear him, all they would find was a small, gold and black cat, communicating his sorrows in quiet meows.

It was damn _embarrassing_, being a cat.

He settled down to scarf down the soggy bread crust and beef scraps in front of him, making sure that he was hidden in the shadow of a trash bin. He had checked the alley earlier for any other cats, but found it devoid of any life, and thus, safe to eat in.

It would have been a tremendous pain to carry the sorry excuse for food a couple blocks in the drizzle of a rainstorm, trying to go unnoticed by other hungry cats in the area, made especially hard by his obvious limp.

He swallowed the first bite of bread, gagging at the feel of it sliding down his throat. But hey, it would have to do.

He finished the rest of the crust quickly, looking forward to the couple slivers of beef he had managed to find. The fact that the meal existed was a miracle in itself. Someone had unwittingly thrown away broken chopsticks with their food scraps, resulting in a broken bag (if you think it's easy to tear garbage bags with your claws, you are terribly mistaken). Combine that with a lucky raccoon tipping over the trash can, and you've got yourself a food source. If Ed's reach had just gone a little farther, he would've snagged a larger hunk of meat, but the scraps would have to do for now.

He bit into the first, savoring the rich, if cold, flavors in the beef.

He hadn't gotten more than a few bites before he heard a noise further down the alley. He jumped, slamming his hind left leg into the tipped bin, the deafening bang echoing in the crowded little alley.

He gasped as an amplified jolt of pain shot through the limb he wasn't used to having, making him collapse to the ground with a small whimper.

Ed heard pawsteps from further down the alley as he tried to pull his quaking legs underneath him. A familiar ache was starting in his limbs, he knew he had to finish this quickly.

A large cat was standing above him, blue eyes glaring for all they were worth. He glared back, finally regaining his balance.

"What're you doing in _my alley_?" her meows were feminine, but had a rough edge to them, as if they were constantly overused.

Ed kept his mouth shut, trying to hold back the snarky comment that would come out if he tried to speak. The cat glanced at the unfinished scraps of meat.

"Stealing food, _huh_? Is that how low you tomcats will fall these days?"

His claws slid out, kneading the pavement in irritation.

"Then again, I doubt you could do anything anyways, what with how _tiny_you are."

He snapped.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE'D BE MORE SUITED TO BE AN UNDERDEVELOPED BACTERIA?!" He screeched.

Before he knew it, his claws were in her back and two paws were sending painful jolts of sensory information to his unprepared brain.

She threw him off easily, slamming him into the wet pavement and out of the shelter of the building.

He bared his teeth and lunged for her exposed neck, trying to get her to back up more than anything. She reared back, letting him slither out from underneath her. They both circled, hissing wordless threats back and forth, but neither making the first move.

A painful spasm ran through Ed's leg as he leapt for her. He winced, falling short and slipping on the wet pavement. A pained groan escaped him as he struggled to his feet.

He was interrupted by the claws digging into his side, pulling him back to the ground. His shoulder landed hard on the pavement, making him gag from the intensified agony.

"This is what you get for breaking the rules, _shrimp_." she hissed, diving for his throat.

Suddenly, his world went blindingly white, and the sound of screeching tires filled his ears. The she-cat disappeared, but he couldn't get up.

Something shoved him to the side, and the car disappeared in to the streets.

He cracked an eye open to see the blurry outlines of two cats standing above him, arguing.

"That was dangerous, you know you're not supposed to risk yourself like that!"

"But Brother-!"

Alphonse...?

A stream of hot, sticky blood pooled on the pavement, and black consumed his vision.

* * *

It wasn't the terrible aching that woke him. No, it wasn't that at all. Though, he realized later, it had definitely become much more noticeable than before.

It was the prodding finger digging into his side.

He twitched, disrupting the many papers strewn across the small desk and sending his pen over the edge.

"Brother? ...Brother!" Alphonse's concerned voice broke into his drowsy mind.

Wait... Alphonse?

"Whazzit...?" he asked, voice slurred with sleep. There was a weird taste in his mouth, but he couldn't quite place it.

"I couldn't get you to wake up at first, I was worried that... Never mind," Alphonse answered, looking down at his still half-asleep brother.

"Dammit Al, 'm gonna have a bruise..." Ed grumbled, shifting slightly and bending the page his cheek was resting on. He half-heartedly brought his left hand down to rub at his sore side.

"Brother, if you're gonna sleep, you should at least move to your bed. Slumping like that's bad for your back."

"Shuddup Al, 'm not an old man-" he broke off with a yawn, finally pulling his head off of the thick tome he was using as a pillow and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good, you're awake." Al sighed, "I'm going to the store, you're running out of food."

Ed sat there for a minute or two, not really comprehending anything other than that one spot on the wall his blurry eyes were pointed towards.

"But we're leaving on a mission tomorrow..." Ed protested, forgetting that Al had already left.

"Damn it..." he rubbed his eyes again, almost poking one out with his automail.

Right, automail. He had automail.

"Why am I so tired...?" Ed mumbled, standing up with minimal help from the chair.

How long had he slept?

He tried to pull up his most recent memories, but only found some bizarre glimpses of life from the view of an _alley cat_, of all things. A dream maybe?

He coughed lightly, trying to relieve the itching feeling in his throat.

At least it hadn't been a _nightmare_.

A shiver ran through his small frame, strengthening the ache in his chest. He glanced at the windows, finding them all shut tightly against the cool fall air. He shivered again, realizing that he wasn't wearing his normal black jacket. His hands hit the back of his chair, searching for the missing item of clothing.

When he felt fabric under his fingers, he pulled it around his shoulders, holding it closed around his chest with a shaking fist. As it fell around him, he found it to be his red traveling cloak.

...That would work too.

His thoughts felt like they were moving at a snail's pace as he considered what exactly he should do.

He ran through his options twice before stumbling towards the tiny bathroom, tracing his hand along the wall as he went.

Gripping the edge of the sink, he bent over it, panting.

Slowly, he turned on the cold water and splashed it onto his face, letting it run down his neck and onto the collar of his shirt.

He looked up at the mirror.

The cloak fell off his shoulders as he flinched away from the glass.

His face was pale, accenting the dark bags hanging under his eyes. His lips were chapped and dry, bits of dead skin hanging off. Mussed, greasy hair framed his face, and sweat dripped down his neck.

"Wh-what...?"

His voice came out raspy, and tickled his throat in the worst way possible, sending him into a coughing fit.

One hand was covering his mouth, the other was clutching at his chest, trying to ward off the unbearable pressure as he doubled over.

His throat spasmed, and stomach acid escaped into his waiting hand.

His eyes were fixated on the floor as a small amount of the warm liquid dripped from between his fingers.

The only sound was the still running water.

Edward shoved his hand under the cold stream, jolted awake.

Shaking with cold, he washed his mouth out and turned off the tap water. His wide eyes raked over the entirety of the bathroom, making sure that everything was hidden.

Alphonse couldn't know.

There, a spot on the floor.

Paper towels were in the kitchen, he remembered. He took off at a run.

Dizziness overtook him, and his left shoulder slammed into the wall.

No, _Alphonse_...!

His fingernails scratched at the wall as he grasped at the last threads of consciousness.


	2. Chapter Two

**_The Fall –_ Chapter Two**

_Two updates in two days?! WHAT IS THIS TRICKERY?! I got another late night inspiration and finished writing sometime the next day. It's not as long as the last chapter, but I'm satisfied with it._

* * *

**( 2 )**

**-[ Wait ]-**

_I'm ready as I'll ever be_

_I've done all one man can_

_And no one now will rescue me_

_So here I'll make my stand_

* * *

Alphonse shoved open the door to their dorm, careful not to spill any food from the paper bags he cradled in one arm.

"Brother? You awake?" He called softly, closing the door behind him. A silent apartment answered his question.

"He must've gone back to bed." Al mused, and went on to the task of placing the food where it needed to go in the small kitchen area. It really wasn't more than a mini-fridge, a microwave, a sink, a dishwasher, and a couple cupboards, a similar set up of some of the larger Inns they had stayed at in the past.

Just as he finished putting the last can of soup on its respecting shelf and turned to throw out the bags, he noticed something strange on the wall. It looked suspiciously like scratches, and he was sure they hadn't been there when he left half an hour ago. The bathroom door had been left ajar, as had the bedroom door, and he could see a hint of red through the doorway. Intrigued, Alphonse pushed the door open the rest of the way.

Ed's red cloak was sprawled out on the floor, and a towel had been crumpled up and shoved in the corner.

Though Al found it odd that Ed would leave his cloak in the bathroom of all places, the entire display wasn't all that uncommon for Ed. He had always been hopeless at anything even bordering on organization.

No connection was made, and all Al did was pick up the abandoned cloth, and grabbed a book to read as he waited for his older brother to wake up.

* * *

The first thing he felt was panic. As a few memories caught up with him the feeling only strengthened.

He tried to move, open his eyes, _anything_, but he wasn't getting any response from his body. The panic rose.

He felt sheets under him, rumpled and shoved slightly to the side. He wasn't in his normal sleep attire, and his tank top felt slightly damp.

Finally, he felt his eyes open, and flinched at the blindingly white light coming from the window next to his bed.

When had he moved to his bed? Last he remembered, he had been researching ways to strengthen transmutations by focusing more on the result than the reaction itself. He had just found an interesting theory when... Right, he had fallen asleep.

But that still left the question of why he was in his bed instead of at the desk.

Confused, he brought his flesh hand up to his face, rubbing at the sweaty skin. He glanced around the room sleepily, finding it just as it normally was; the few things it held scattered around messily. He heard Al's echoing footsteps in the kitchen area; he was probably making dinner, based on the sun's low position in the sky.

Groaning slightly, Ed sat up, making the cheap dorm bed creak at the change in weight. He regretted it a second later as a headache started to build up behind his eyes. Instinctively, he pressed his fight arm to his forehead, trying to numb the ache with the cool metal.

Biting his lip, he tried not to stumbled as he stood up.

After briefly wondering why his door had been left open, he walked out into the tiny hallway, the floorboards complaining as he went.

"Brother?" He heard all call.

"Hmm..." He answered, not having the energy to think up a literate response. He lowered his arm, trying to look as normal as he could after just waking up (and with a splitting headache, but Alphonse couldn't know that). He slumped into one of two chairs set next to a small table, simply staring when a steaming bowl of soup was placed in front of him.

Al chuckled to himself as he sat down across from Ed, earning him a confused look from the aforementioned teen.

"Your bedhead, Brother, it..." He trailed off, clearly catching sight of Ed's glare. He fought the urge to laugh again as Ed started eating.

"How long was I sleeping...?" Ed asked in-between bites, stirring the vegetable soup to dispel some of the excess heat from the exposed surface.

"I got back-" Al glanced at the clock resting on the microwave, "about three hours ago."

Ed nodded once before swallowing, plowing his way through the soup as fast as he could.

"Did you find anything interesting?" He asked, just like he did every meal, talking about research. Used to how his brother talked as though everyone could understand, Al replied,

"There was one idea that intrigued me. I don't remember it exactly, but it said something about collecting energy from other lifeforms, like plants or bacteria, and expelling it through an alchemic reaction. It also said something about..."

Normally, Ed would've interrupted by now, adding his own theories to the mix and trying to puzzle out ways to prove it, but this time he stayed silent, listening to Al continue.

"...There would be some danger to the alchemist, since the energy would have to travel through him or her, but the overall result would be tremendous, depending on how much energy was taken. The subject of the alchemy could also be at risk, and..."

In truth, Al was enjoying his unstopped ramble, only paused when Ed made a small noise of confirmation.

Now that he though about it, Ed seemed to still be tired, but he was almost always completely awake and energetic by now.

"...It might have something to do with a common catalyst, maybe created by a widespread transmutation circle." He paused before asking, "Are you feeling okay, Brother?"

"Mm? Oh, fine, Al." Ed said hastily as he placed his used dish in the sink.

Alphonse looked about as disbelieving as a suit of armor could, but didn't say anything else.

Ed walked slowly back to his room and closed the door without another word, leaving an awkward absence behind him. In the silence, Alphonse could hear muffled coughs coming from behind the door.

* * *

Edward felt _miserable_. He had been trying to research for the past hour now, but he had only gotten through a little over a page of text. He didn't have this kind of _time _on his hands! He was supposed to report to the Colonel Mustang to get a briefing on his mission first thing tomorrow morning, and after that he didn't know when his next chance for research was.

On top of that, his throat had been itching ever since dinner. He would've gone to grab a glass of water, but he was near _desperate_ to avoid Al's questions. He had remembered the entirety of what happened when he woke up earlier, and he had no intention of repeating it.

Al had put his cloak on his suitcase, nicely folded up and smoothed out. It was a miracle he hadn't guessed anything from the dirty towel he had left in the bathroom with it. He hadn't had time for anything else when he felt his focus slipping away. He just barely was able to make it to his bed before he passed out.

It was maddening, trying not to cough, but each time he let himself do it, he stomach would lurch, threatening to throw up the soup he had just eaten.

He slammed his fist onto the desk, clenching his teeth and swallowing in an attempt to ward off the incessant itchiness. He shakily brought a hand to his still aching head, slumping in defeat.

Despite the warm sunset, Ed discarded his tight leather pants and collapsed into his bed, closing the curtains and sending the room into darkness.

* * *

"It's not possible..." Truth muttered, pacing between the two identical gates standing parallel to each other. He glanced at the two, trying to find some flaw, some hint that there was a mistake.

There wasn't one.

"He can't _do _that!"

Edward Elric had two gates.

* * *

As Ed shivered, he brought his knees to his chest and bit down on his lip, trying to fight back a frustrated sob. One escaped anyways, and he bit harder, drawing a few drops of blood. He dripped slowly down his chin and onto his pillow, staining the perfect white.

No, no, shut _up_, Alphonse _can't know_...

No matter the amount of inner scolding, he couldn't stop the angry tears as he slipped into sleep.


	3. Chapter Three

**_The Fall –_ Chapter Three**

_I'm kinda sad that this story isn't getting much love... It's my least popular one whichever way you look at it. :nervous look:_

_UPDATED FOR OCTOBER 3RD.  
_

_Special thanks to **Mistclaw **for reviewing chapter two!_

**Disclaimer: **_Fullmetal Alchemist_ does not belong to me. _Wake Up_ does not belong to me.

* * *

**( 3 )**

**-[ Doubles ]-**

_I'm not angry all the time  
You push me down at least you try  
Until we see this eye to eye  
I don't want you_

* * *

Ed sat uncomfortably in front of the black cat, trying not to wince from his torn side. The gashes had stopped bleeding already, but they felt as if the large cat's claws were still digging into his side. At the very least, he had the black cat there to distract him. He almost wished he didn't. He really wanted to think without interruptions right now...

"So... what exactly are you doing here?" the cat hissed, stalking around the gold and black cat. The black cat's companion, a pale tan tabby with dark brown markings, seemed nervous about the whole situation, shifting from foot to foot and glancing shyly at the others from time to time.

At the same time, Ed was getting more and more confused by the minute. He had fallen asleep after finding out he was sick, and now he was a cat. Stranger still, he could remember exactly what had happened when he was a cat before. He was comfortable in the cat body; he knew how he was supposed to survive in it, and moving around was completely natural, as easy as breathing.

"Getting my ass handed to me..." he muttered, not intending for anyone else but him to hear. Naturally, his interrogator caught it too, what with cats having better hearing and all. Damn cats.

"Hah! That's certainly true!" the cat laughed, "but it's not what I wanted to hear."

"Hey, Maes..." the smaller cat meowed, looking up. My eyes widened a little bit, surprised at the name. The black cat- Maes- glared at me with glowing green eyes a moment longer before turning to his companion.

"What is it, Jeffy?" he meowed, voice softening. It was obvious that they were close, but how, Ed wasn't sure.

"Well, he's hurt, and it wasn't like he was against us or anything..." Jeffy meowed quietly, shuffling his paws on the dark ground between two dumpsters. There seemed to be a dull thumping echoing off the walls, but the other cats didn't seem to notice. It must've just been the blood in his ears.

"I guess... I mean, he's cursed, so he's not much of a threat anymore," Maes meowed thoughtfully.

It took effort not to talk back to the implication that he was weak, and it took Ed a moment to understand the second part of his pondering.

"Wait, cursed?" he replied skeptically.

"Yeah, _cursed_," Maes smirked, "Once Cynder finds you, she won't stop hunting you until you're dead. It don't even know why Jeffy bothered to save, getting hit by a cat would've been much better than the way _she _kills her victims."

"Brother!" Jeffy squeaked, crouching down and pulling his ears back in fright. For one painful moment, Ed was reminded of Al as a little kid when thunderstorms passed over Resembool.

The grin slipped off Maes' face as he turned to his- younger?- sibling. He licked the top of his head, temporarily flattening the tuft of fur that stood up awkwardly.

"I'm sorry little bro... Forgive me?" His tone of voice was so warm and caring, almost impossibly so after he had so obviously delighted in sharing as much information on "the curse" as he could. The younger stood up and stretched his neck out to playfully lick his sibling's ear.

"Forgive you," he said happily as he nuzzled affectionately into his brother's side. Ed noticed with a small twitch that Maes was still glaring at him over his shoulder, but the glare that had been so sharp before seemed much softer now.

"C'mon Jeffy, he can fend for himself," the black cat said softly. Ed knew that it was just a nicer way of saying that he wasn't welcome.

But he didn't need to be welcome, either. He could take care of himself, just as he had been doing before. It hadn't worked that well, but so what? He didn't want anyone around him, especially not now, when everything made no sense whatsoever. He just wished he could talk to Alphonse right now…

Lost in his thoughts, he had missed the other cats' departures, one leading the other out of the shadowed alley they had been hiding in. Evening was drawing near, making the shadows even deeper than they normally were. That didn't matter anymore, he could see perfectly well into the darkness, his pupils dilating to let in more light, as normal cats' eyes do.

As he limped toward the entrance of the alley, a strange calm washed over him. The ache in his limbs and the stabbing pains in his side were still there, but the feelings didn't seem to draw his attention. Not nearly as much as that sudden movement from the street.

It was big, really big, kind of shiny… It was fast too. Then it was gone. Another came. And another. His thoughts floated in circles as he tried to puzzle out what it was. For the life of him, he just couldn't remember anything right now. All that mattered was putting one paw in front of the other.

Just. One. More. Step.

One.

More.

Wait. The ground was different now.

Instead of the rough, cracked grey stuff, it was black, and a little bit smoother. He stopped, not recognizing the strange material.

He stepped backwards, realizing that there was a ledge there. It was made of the familiar, grey stuff. Turning back, he started to walk along the edge of the grey stuff, kind of noticing the fast, shiny things off to his right.

His numbed thoughts deteriorated further, and he couldn't remember anything that happened after.

* * *

A boy pulled his hood further down over his face, trying to block out the persistent drizzling that was slowly soaking through his jacket. The thing had said it was waterproof, but that was quickly being proved wrong. The black fabric was darkening further, and he could just barely feel a bit of dampness on his shoulders.

Cursing the light, but unexpected rain, he stomped along the sidewalk, dangerously close to the small street next to him. He had been a few minutes late to his publisher meeting, and his book had been rejected because of his tardiness. He was starting to run low on money, and he needed to pay off another check to the online school he attended before his 18th birthday, which happened to be in under a month. So he either had to sell his book now, or abandon it entirely, and get a crappy job at a fast food restaurant.

Scowling deeply, he let one fist come out of his pocket and punch at the air in front of him, trying to take his anger out on an invisible foe, which happened to look like the snooty publisher he had tried to meet with.

"'Punctuality is a very important trait in an author. I'm afraid you won't meet the standards. Please try to meet our preliminary standards next time, Mr. Camiz.'" he mimicked, making his voice rise in a teasing female tone, "She can take her 'preliminary standards' and shove them up her-!" he trailed off into grumbles. Kicking at a few loose stones in the cracks, he couldn't help but notice an anomaly in front of him.

It was a cat. That much was normally, but the way it moved was just… weird. It kind of stumbled along, but it was going in a straight line. He snickered as he remembered an old youtube video he had found of a cat given alcohol. He would've made a comparison right then, but then the cat turned around to face him.

"Holy shit…" he whispered, his eyes pinned on the cat's. It's right eye was gold, while the left was brown, and both were equally empty. It seemed to tilt its head slightly to the side, its slack jaw falling even farther, if that was even possible. Then it turned back around and started its way forward again.

It took a couple moments to process exactly what had happened. There was a cat. And it looked like a goddamn zombie! Without the rotting bits, he added as an afterthought.

His first step towards the strange cat sent him tumbling to the ground. Okay, what the hell?! As he lifted his sore face off of the sidewalk, a few strands of wavy blonde hair fell out, immediately starting to soak up the rain falling ever more heavily from the sky. He shoved his hands down, lifting his torso from the concrete and curling his legs underneath him. He quickly checked himself over for scratches, finding a few on his hands, knees, and a small cut on his elbow. Not to mention the mud leaving unpleasant stains all over his clothing.

He looked up, prepared to set his best glare at the cat, but it wasn't there anymore. He looked around a bit, completely oblivious to the stares he was attracting from other civilians.

After a couple seconds of scanning the almost empty sidewalk, he saw the cat slip into a tiny alley next to a cheap looking Chinese place.

Okay, this was ridiculous! Why did he care so much about the stupid cat?1 He almost turned around right there, even though his house was in the opposite direction. But then he turned back towards the alley, and the mostly black tail slipping limply around the corner.

Screw the cat!

But…

"Oh, I am not doing this…" he muttered as he stood up and followed the cat into the alley. The first thing he noticed was the persistent scratching noise coming from the dumpster. Unsurprisingly, it was that strange cat. Only now did he notice its odd coloring.

Its front half was mostly gold, matching its right eye, but had a few black markings here and there. Similarly, the back half was mostly black with a few gold markings. It also seemed like it was trying its best to keep its weight off of its front right and back left legs, balancing precariously on the others. He couldn't see any injuries on the mentioned limbs, but it could be possible the damage was internal, or even genetic.

Oddly enough, the cat seemed to remind him of someone, but he couldn't remember who at the moment.

He watched silently as the cat circled the dumpster, searching for an opening. It found none, but kept searching anyways, as if this was the only purpose it had in life.

Only now did the thought cross his mind that there was something seriously wrong with this cat. Then he realized that there very well might be something wrong with him for not realizing this earlier. He almost slapped himself, but stopped as the cat started turning towards him.

It was downright creepy, the way the cat held itself. It was so sure of where it was going, but seemed too crippled to do it right. Again came that sense of recognition, but again he couldn't remember.

He wasn't quite sure how his mind came to this conclusion, but he decided that, rather than leave this cat alone, he should bring it to a veterinarian's office. So, against his better judgment, he reached down to pick up the advancing feline. He unwillingly winced as his fingers touched its fur, expecting it to snap at his exposed fingers.

It did the complete opposite, going completely limp in his outstretched hands and almost making him topple forward from its minuscule weight. He bundled the now unresponsive cat in part of his jacket, trying to keep it unseen from the few people still on the streets.

Then he ran like hell to the vets office.


End file.
